


The Murderhusbands of Suburbia

by MaroonDragon



Series: Stories HDHale made me write [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: FBI Agent Stiles, Housewife Peter, M/M, MurderHusbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonDragon/pseuds/MaroonDragon
Summary: A look into the life of FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski and his househusband Peter Hale. A respectable couple living in the suburbs, who may or may not kill those who manage to evade capture by the FBI.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HDHale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDHale/gifts).



> It's just a quick drabble to try and get back into writing again. This idea was also inspired by my chats with HD-Hale on Tumblr (HDHale on here). His Steter art is absolutely amazing so you should definitely check those out!  
> This piece is unbetad at the moment, so sorry for any mistakes I may have made.

“You are late.”  
  
Stiles sighed, not even haven gotten the chance to take his coat off, and already his husband was complaining about things. He put away his gun, and placed his badge on the table in the hallway, before moving over into their kitchen where said husband was making dinner. It still gave Stiles endless amusement to watch Peter putter around in their kitchen with an apron that said 'kiss the cook'. No matter what the old pack liked to believe, Peter could be incredibly corny. Didn't mean that Stiles didn't comply with the order to kiss his cook. 

“I would have been on time, if someone had stuck to the plan like I told him to. It smells great in here.”

“The plan you hatched took a lot more time. I prefer things to be efficient.” Peter scoffed, smacking his hand away when Stiles reached out for a quick bite. “And don’t touch the cake in the fridge. It’s for Mrs. Elderman.”  
  
“The plan I so neatly laid out for you, was specifically designed so I wouldn’t have to basically erase half the cameras in this city. Your efficient method, cost me hours at work. You do realise that I actually do other things at the FBI than clear up your murders, right?” Grabbing the plates from the nearby cabinet, he moved to set up the table.  “And are you still trying to one-up Mrs. Elderman? You do realise that you’re more likely to kill her from a high cholesterol, than to beat her at baking at this rate, right?”

“Stiles, I’m doing the FBI a service getting rid of the people that they can’t catch themselves. I am already doing your job for you. You are the one who passes me the filed. If you want someone else to murder these people, feel free to find another hitman.” Peter shrugged, dismissing Stiles’ complaints. “And I will find a recipe that she cannot beat. I don’t like how smug she is. She actually tried to give me advice on how to the perfect cheesecake!”  
  
Stiles snorted, helping his lover with dishing out the food so they could actually have dinner. “You do realise that the FBI is more likely to arrest you than to commend you for your service. You cannot beat Mrs. Elderman from prison. Or kill her.”  
  
The longstanding feud that Peter had with their neighbour was rather amusing to watch, and pretty much everyone else in the neighbourhood was taking bets on who was going to cave first. When they had first moved to the suburbs, the woman had kindly brought over a batch of delicious cupcakes to welcome them. Which in turn had prompted Peter to make a stunning red velvet to thank her. It had been two years now, and every Friday Peter would deliver them something, and then on Saturday the plate would be returned along with something sweet from Mrs. Elderman. Stiles just enjoyed the spoils.

“Don’t forget, we are supposed to host the next barbeque. Have you cleared away the trash in the shed?” He questioned, digging into the food.  
  
“No Stiles, I decided to leave bloody clothes lying around so that the neighbours could have a bit of a scare while retrieving drinks. Of course I’ve cleaned it up in there. It was my best leather jacket as well.” Peter was still more upset about the jacket than anything else.  
  
“I’m sure you can buy yourself a new one. Though I still think you should wear something that is a lot more easy to clean. Clothes that don’t need to be taken to the dry cleaners.”  
  
“Stiles, I am not giving up fashion for murder. Besides, the neighbours would notice it if I left the house looking less than impeccable.” Peter looked almost affronted at the very idea of wearing something that could just be tossed into the washing machine. “Just because the FBI has no proper dress code, does not mean I should adhere to that standard as well.”  
  
“You love me in a suit, so don’t complain about the FBI.” Stiles scoffed. “I have a new target for you, by the way. Arsonist. We know who he is, but with all the evidence burning to a crisp, we can’t pin him. Twelve cases already, four dead, seventeen wounded.”  
  
“I will take a look tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll be able to cause him to have an accident. It will have to be before the end of this week though. I am not interrupting our anniversary vacation for your work.”

* * *

 

  
“You know, we should probably be heading back. Dad is coming over for dinner, and you know he’s always ten minutes early.” Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair only to remember that it was covered in blood. It was always gross, no matter how often they ended up in this situation.  
  
“Yes, and I hate the disapproving looks he gives me every time there is even a speck of blood visible. I would not wish to add tardiness to the list of reasons your father disapproves of me.”

The animosity between Peter and his father was one of the reasons the sheriff rarely made it over for dinner. The long drive didn’t help either. It was a frustrating thing to have to deal with, but Stiles would never regret marrying Peter.  
  
“You know it’s only because he thinks you’re the reason for all this.” The person they were currently incinerating was soon going to be nothing more than an unsolved case in the FBI database. It had been there for years already, so Stiles doubted they would really care all that much.

“You are lucky I like you Stiles, and I know how much you want him to keep believing you’re just the naïve boy he raised.” Peter snorted as he turned up the heat to make sure the bones would soon be brittle enough for them to reduce them to ashes. “You wouldn’t want daddy dearest to find out that our whole relationship is based on you coming to me for help, now would you?”  
  
“I can’t help that he thinks you’re a bad influence. At least the rest of the neighbourhood knows you’re really just a househusband who enjoys baking.” Stiles smirked, turning around to pack up their things so they could head out soon. All that would be left after they crushed the bones was to wipe the fingerprints. Stiles had already made sure the cameras weren’t operational before they came in. Sometimes it was really great to have FBI technology on hand, even if he was technically not supposed to have it off duty.

* * *

 

“When are you two going to start on having kids?”

Stiles nearly choked on his ice tea at that question, leaving him red faced and coughing as he gave Anna an incredulous look. The woman in question was their elderly neighbour from across the street. She had lived alone ever since her husband passed, and her children had moved away. It made her determined to mother everyone else in the neighbourhood, including Stiles and Peter. It was usually rather nice, but sometimes, like now, she could be incredibly nosy.  The annual garden party for the neighbourhood was in full swing, this time it was at Mrs. Elderman’s home, which meant that of course she and Peter were already having a polite, but secretly snide, conversation about the best baking methods and recipes.  Which left Stiles alone with the hungry wolves that consisted of the women in the neighbourhood.

“Peter and I haven’t exactly looked into anything like that. I work insane hours. Having a kid is not something we have discussed yet.” Between murdering and Stiles’ actual work, they already had trouble making time for one another. No matter what Peter said, murder was not a proper bonding activity.

“Oh but you two are just so adorable together. Your husband was an absolute delight with my granddaughter when we ran into him at the supermarket. Everyone in the street would love to see you two become parents.” She smiled encouragingly, before giving him a nudge. “I made my bet for the end of next year, so maybe you can help a lady out here.”

“As much as I appreciate the endorsement, I think we should perhaps first consider having a pet, rather than immediately leaping to having children.” It was perhaps a weak argument, but Stiles didn’t want to crush the woman’s spirit by telling her outright that they would probably never go for having kids.

“You already have a pet. Whenever my Archie has disappeared, I know right where to find him. Your husband is like catnip for the dogs around here.” Anna laughed, making Stiles huff in amusement.

Oh Peter was catnip for the dogs alright. Every single one of them loved the man. At first Stiles had thought it was a werewolf thing. That somehow the man was actually creating a pack with the actual animals. He should have known better. If the rest of the neighbourhood knew how Peter bribed their dogs with treats, they would probably be more worried about their pets’ diets around the man. It did mean that they regularly had dogs popping in whenever they escaped their own gardens. Most owners didn’t even bother to look anywhere else, before knocking on their door.

“I still don’t think we’re quite ready for the idea of kids though, so you may want to change your bet.” Stiles shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.

“You never know. I wasn’t planning on having my daughter either, but things happen. Though if you’ll excuse me, I do need to have a talk with Jill.”

He could only watch in amusement as the elderly woman bustled her way over to Jill, who was the regular bookmaker in their neighbourhood. If there was a bet going on, she was the one to go to.  Getting up from the table, he stole his husband away before he could commit murder on one of their neighbours.  “We’re not having kids before the end of next year, are we?”

“Not that I was aware of. I’m perfectly happy with our pack of two.” Peter hummed, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he let his eyes flare red for just Stiles to see.

“That’s what I thought.”

 

 

 

 


	2. How to propose to your boyfriend by Peter Hale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter knows he wants to marry Stiles. He has the rings, he has a plan. Now all he needs is for life to stop getting in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the awesome HD-Hale. Hope your stress head eases up soon! Thank you for always giving me fun new ideas to work with!

Peter had the rings for months now. Two bands of platinum perfection. One with a red garnet in there, and the other with a blue sapphire. He knew that it was supposed to be just one ring, but if he was going to propose to Stiles, he was planning to have a ring himself as well. If he was honest, Peter had never really believed he would get married to anyone. Not because there were no offers on the table, but simply because he had never thought himself capable of tying himself down to another being. Of course Stiles was always the exception to his rules.

 

“Peter, come take a look at this kitchen! You’re going to love it!” The man in question was currently driving their realtor up the wall with in depth questions about the structural integrity of the house they were looking at, and Peter was more than happy in letting him do so.

 

The house was beautiful, and its location suited both Stiles’ need to be close to the FBI main office, while it gave Peter the space he needed. The neighbourhood was rather nice as well. And, once he laid his eyes on the room, the kitchen was indeed spectacular. He already knew they were going to buy this place, but he would let Stiles badger their realtor a little more. It was well deserved for the judgy looks she had been giving them for their age difference. If the woman didn’t have access to the best deals in the city, they would have switched to a different one a while ago.   


“I do have another couple who is interested in this property already. As you can tell, it’s a steal for the price the owners have put it on the market for. They want a quick sell. So I would recommend offering far more than the asking price if you wish to outbid the other offers.”

 

That bright smile was starting to get really on Peter’s nerves, along with her always perfectly maintained hair. Normally he admired people who took great effort to maintain their looks, but on her it just felt fake and irritating. He glanced at his boyfriend as the man slotted himself into his side.

 

“No killing our realtor, Peter. Not until we have our house.” Stiles warned softly in his ear, under the pretence of kissing his cheek –which had the benefit of making Miss Perfect highly uncomfortable-. Yeah, he was going to marry Stiles.

 

* * *

 

Peter had to admit that it might not have been the greatest idea to try and propose to Stiles on the day they finished moving into their new home. He had figured it would be a romantic gesture. They would be able to celebrate a whole new chapter of their lives. No more cramped apartments. No more questions about which apartment they would be sleeping that night. The fact that they would also be sharing a name in the future seemed like the cherry on top.

 

He had planned everything accordingly. Stiles would get to unpack the last boxes in the living room, while he would finished up with the bedroom. It really was his task anyways, because Stiles could not organize a closet to save his life. No, Peter would have full control over their walk-in closet. Once that was done, he had gotten out the rose petals, and strewn them across the bed and floor, placing two long stemmed roses on the pillow, with the rings tied to them. It had looked gorgeous, and romantic, and the perfect setting to propose in. The idea of follow up sex to celebrate had been even better.

 

His entire plan fell apart the moment Stiles came upstairs, stumbled to the bed, and decided to face plant himself on the pillows that had the roses on it. With all the chaos of moving, his boyfriend had exhausted himself to the point of not even noticing the romantic gesture. He did notice the thorns in his face though. Apparently Stiles did not appreciate the metaphor of the both of them being beautiful and sharp, just like a rose with thorns.

 

So here they were, in the emergency room to make sure that Stiles had no lasting damage to his face and eye. At least in all the confusion the guy had also missed the rings attached to the roses –which had been thrown across the room-, and Peter was never going to admit to them being there. His proposal would go off without a hitch. He refused to have it forever remembered as a night they spent having Stiles’ face treated with iodine.

 

* * *

 

Attempt number two, three and four were all thwarted by Stiles’ work. Apparently the FBI had absolutely no respect for regular working hours. If Peter killed one of the suspects, whose investigation had ruined his date with Stiles, with a little more relish than usual, he could always blame it on the full moon.

 

* * *

 

This was not how he had envisioned number five to end if he was honest. Hands deep sorting through the mess their vacuum cleaner had sucked up over the past week, and still no engagement.

 

It was nearly Christmas, and Stiles had demanded they’d get a proper Christmas tree to celebrate the fact that they could in their new home. Peter had been more than happy to agree, because the smell of pine was rather soothing, and even he could be cheered up by the sight of those twinkly lights. Even if it meant the impending doom of a night spent with the Sheriff and the McCall family. The lengths he went to, to make his, hopefully, future husband happy.

 

With Stiles being an absolute sugar fiend, there had to be candy canes to decorate the tree with. Every evening, Stiles would go through at least two as they watched whatever show was on TV.  So Peter figured he could hide the ring with one of the candy canes. They were wrapped in plastic, so there was no risk of his husband eating it while he was distracted, and Peter would be there to pop the question once Stiles found the right candy cane hanging on the tree.

 

His plan had been perfect. It was cute, and romantic, and it could not be foiled by some FBI case interrupting or postponing their date. Peter had gotten rather sick of trying to bribe waiters to bring the ring at the right signal, only to have to ask for it back as Stiles rushed out of the restaurant to get to work. He should have known it would go wrong.

 

Stiles had gotten less clumsy over the years. FBI training had helped hone his reflexes so that even when he stumbled, he could smoothly catch himself and pretend he had always intended for that to happen. Peter still should have calculated in the risk of his boyfriend’s capability of destroying everything nice. It was the reason they didn’t have any breakables on surfaces Stiles could easily knock over. He should have secured the tree better, until it was pretty much immovable. 

 

To come home to see Stiles hoovering up hundreds of shards of glass and ceramics –and the tree being almost empty of all of them-, almost gave him a heart attack. Apparently, even with the wires hidden behind the tree, Stiles had still managed to trip in their living room and drag the tree down along with him.

 

So here Peter was, at three in the morning after making sure his lover was asleep, sifting through all kinds of filth to find an engagement ring. It seemed that making any plans involving Stiles required far more precision than expected.

 

* * *

 

Attempt six was ruined by the neighbour’s dog eating the batch of cupcakes he had left unattended for five minutes –including the ring that had been propped up in icing-. A serious trip to the vet, and an afternoon of following the dog around waiting for it to poop, and Peter had his ring back. Which then spent several hours getting cleaned again.

 

Attempt seven was ruined by Scott McCall having another relationship breakdown. Peter already loathed the true alpha, but he was genuinely making a list of pros and cons of killing him. Stiles could find a better friend, of that Peter was sure.

 

Attempt eight failed with Stiles having a serious cold, and his favourite sweater being ruined due to having to drag his boyfriend out of a freezing lake. He had told Stiles that the ice wasn’t thick enough yet to hold him. So much for a romantic walk in the snow.

 

* * *

 

Planning number nine was becoming a hassle. After eight consecutive failures, it seemed that proposing to Stiles in a meaningful way was simply impossible. Peter refused to let himself be beaten though. He would make sure that when Stiles thought back on the night they got engaged, he would be bawling every time out of pure heartfelt joy. Peter did not do anything without it being perfect.

 

“Are you going to help me actually finish getting rid of this body, or will you just keep standing there?” Stiles complained from where he was putting the remains in trash bags. By the end of the night it would be nothing more than compressed landfill, and it would not be traceable to them.

 

“I already did the hard part of tearing the body apart Stiles. It’s hardly that much work now.” Grabbing a few parts himself, he added them to the trash bag he had in his hands. It was already filled with ruined clothing, and general trash that would hide the shape just in case anyone looked too closely before it was compressed. 

 

Once the last of the mess was cleared away, they took a final moment to look over their handiwork to make sure it would not be discovered.

 

“Hey, Peter?” 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“They say that those who murder together, stay together. So what do you say…want to tie the knot?”

 

“….”

 

“Fuck you, Stiles.”

 

* * *

 

 

Their wedding date was set for winter the next year.      

 

 

  


End file.
